


Complements

by Rainbow_squirrels_7



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, gets kind of angsty but has a happy ending, i wanted to get this out on the day of, said ending is a bit rushed but oh well, told between Civil War and Infinity War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2018-06-02
Packaged: 2019-05-17 03:15:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14824209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbow_squirrels_7/pseuds/Rainbow_squirrels_7
Summary: the divide between The Avengers is much more than just regulation versus freedom. it's logic versus emotion, and smaller divides within. here's how some of them come back together.





	Complements

**Complements**

PART ONE: LOGIC

 

            "Yeah, yeah he wants to see you."

            "Are you sure-"

            "Yes, now come on. He won't bite."

            Vision took one last look at Tony Stark. They were standing in the hallway of a brightly-lit hospital. The door to their right was slightly cracked open, from where Stark had just walked out.

Vision still did not feel convinced, but Tony began to walk away, and the android was just able to catch a snippy, "Probably!" from around the corner that the man turned.

            A few nurses and attendants quickly vacated the area, averting their eyes and getting back to work. The whole place had turned to a frenzy of activity once it had been made known that the Real Life Avenger, Tony Stark was present in the building. But once they found out _why_ he'd arrived, they were quick to put away un-autographed slips of paper and camera phones.

            The few that still remained, skittering about to wherever they had been heading to previously, walked by Vision without a word. Though each time a new face would pass, without fail, they would do a double-take at the android's unconventional appearance. Anyone who had done so would mutter an apology or just shake their head quickly and keep walking, but Vision was still relieved that he had thought to switch into his 'civilian' outfit. It wasn't exactly what he wanted to wear all the time, preferring the dark green metallic armor he conjures for himself, but the real-looking clothes made people feel more comfortable around him. With the recent bad blood between robots and the general human population because of the whole Ultron incident, Vision was sometimes glad to blend in, at least a little.

            Having decided he had already been waiting too long, Vision slowly pushed the door open and stepped through.

            "Colonel Rhodes, first and foremost, I would like to apologize-"

            "Aw, don't give me that. Come on!"

            Colonel James Rhodes, called "Rhodey" by most everyone minus The Vision, was lying between a valley of pillows in a hospital bed. An electronic monitor was attached to his finger, the wires running up to a screen that tracked heartbeat, brain function, vitals, and other factors to do with health. A few balloons with shiny 'get well!' messages floated near the ceiling, and there were one or two vases of flowers that were set on the windowsill. They were probably from Tony or close family, Vision thought, though he didn't personally know if Rhodes was married or had children. As Vision looked him over, he decided that the colonel looked quite comfortable, but the fact that he was hardly moving his limbs was deeply concerning.

            Vision stood awkwardly until speaking up with, "I should sit?" not really planning for it to sound like a question, but it came out that way.

            Rhodey answered with a "yeah," and Vision complied by dragging up a plastic hospital chair. The metal feet scraped on the tile floor, causing Rhodey to cringe, and Vision to start to apologize again.

            "Stark tell you the diagnosis?" Rhodey asked as Vision sat down.

            "Yes, the vertebrae that make up your spine-"

            "Were pretty messed up." Rhodes finished the thought for him. "Doesn't look like I'll be walking again anytime soon either."

            Vision shifted, remembering what Tony had said: _some form of paralysis._ He frowned and looked at the floor between his chair and the bed, not wanting to meet Rhodey's gaze. "I am truly sorry for my mistake."

            "Didn't know you could feel sorry," Rhodey was looking at the ceiling now, finding it took too much effort to move his head to face the android. "Or make mistakes."

            "I was... Distracted." Vision repeated what he had told Tony, this conversation now sounding very familiar.

            Rhodey didn't immediately reply. There was a long moment of silence until he spoke up again, not meeting Vision's eyes.

            "On the Force, you're often called a hero. Practically everyone there has saved someone at one time or another. It turns into just another part of the job."

            Vision listened intently, unable to decipher where this change in subject was heading towards.

            "Before Tony made the suits, before the Avengers, I was already saving people. It's why I joined the Force in the first place; if I could help people, help my country, then that was something worth doing. And the Avengers were no different. Saving people is still saving people. The Iron Patriot and War Machine just made it easier. Made it a hell of a lot easier."

            He paused for a moment before continuing. "It's like Steve said, the Avengers were made to help people. And so were the Accords. Still, only one of those seems to have succeeded." Rhodey was fiddling with the MIT class ring he wore on his finger. Tony had one that was similar somewhere, Vision knew. Soon, even that seemed like too much effort, and Rhodey's hands dropped back onto the sheets.

            "You can't change what people believe. Especially not what Captain freakin' America believes. So right from the start, when not all the Avengers signed, it was bound to go downhill from there."

            "It was the start of our divide." Vision agreed, "Colonel Rhodes, I am not entirely sure why you are telling me all of this."

            "What I'm saying is," Rhodey finally turned his head slightly, to look at Vision seriously, "That I still believe in the Avengers and what we stand for. And the Accords, too. We're meant to save people, and the Accords were made to make it so that more people do get saved."

            Vision was still not catching it. "I understand that." He said simply. "It is what I calculated about the Accords when we were first told about them by Secretary Ross."

            "The Accords are like Tony's suit, or mine, or... You. They're like a machine." Rhodey didn't seem to notice that Vision frowned almost imperceptibly at the blunt connotation. "Like a suit, the Accords only work when all the pieces work together. But when a part doesn't work right, when we have morals competing against ideals, or some other problem... Well, something's bound to go BOOM."

            "You are saying that..." Vision trailed off, focusing to get the thoughts in order in his mind. "The Avengers... The Accords... The world... cannot afford for a part of that machine to not function properly."

            "Exactly," Rhodey turned back to watching the ceiling. "And I don't just mean you. Steve, Sam, and the others... We may not be able to change what they believe in, but that doesn't mean we can't come together. No matter what we disagree on, the world needs the Avengers to be a perfect machine. It's the only way that people get saved. We can't have one part acting against the others."

            Vision sat for a while, processing all that Rhodey had said. The colonel wasn't wrong, and Vision agreed with him. Those who had signed had all signed for the same reasons. They all believed in the same ideals. The same ideals that Vision still held on a pedestal; a life is always better than a death, and if regulations could cut off the pattern that had formed since Tony had made the Iron Man suits, then Vision would agree to those parameters.

            Captain Rogers and the others who didn't sign the Accords were acting based on emotions, not logic. It was a simple equation with a simpler solution, that solution being the Accords.

            They were the part of the machine that didn't work. And as a result, the machine that was the Avengers was not able to function. And it was for the disadvantage of all.

            Vision realized with a start, that he, too may be a cog in the part of the machine that couldn't function.

            Properly functioning machines didn't make mistakes.

            Vision's thoughts were cut off when Rhodey sighed loudly. "I understand..." He seemed to be struggling for words, "I understand that you were just doing your job too... When you shot me down. And if you'd've hit Sam as bad as you hit me, he probably would've turned out worse."

            Vision said nothing, waiting for him to continue. But Rhodey changed the subject again, "I don't know what's gonna happen... With the team, with me, with the whole freakin' world... I just don't know. But I do know, that if something... BOOM worthy were to happen... Especially with what's going on now... The Avengers wouldn't be ready."

            He sighed. "But you can't change the past. What's happened happened, and there's nothing we can do about it now. We all knew the risks... Only thing we can do now is try to get the machine up and running again."

           

***

 

            Tony was not waiting for Vision when he exited the hospital a short time later. There were not any vehicles that Vision could see that would have belonged to Stark (fancy cars tended to stand out in a regular hospital parking lot) either, so it was assumed that he had gone back to the Avengers Facility compound.

            Stark must have trusted that Vision would be able to get back on his own, which was not wrong. Vision made himself weightless and floated up into the mid-afternoon sky. He took care to stay above the clouds, not wanting to attract any attention.

            After some time, the Compound came into view. The still-new Avengers headquarters stood in a secluded field in upstate New York. It was close enough to the city for easy back-and-forth trips, but just far enough away as to be somewhat hidden from prying eyes.

            Vision landed on the roof and phased downwards a number of floors. Only about four of those were actually above ground. The bulk of the massive Facility was sprawling under the earth.

            The halls and rooms were oddly quiet.

            Vision walked and floated down various corridors, not detecting any sounds from anywhere. Of course, he also didn't open any doors that were closed, in case someone was in fact present and did not want to be disturbed. He had learned _that_ lesson the hard way. 

             Still, even behind the closed doors, the entire compound seemed to be holding its breath. Vision himself was silent most of the time already, able to move without hardly making a sound, and this fact seemed emphasized in the empty building.

            Yes, it was empty. Vision found that he was the only one present in the entire facility.

            He did wonder where Stark had gone, thinking earlier that the man _had_ returned to the compound. Now though, it was clear that he was gone, and Vision wasn't sure if he had come back in the first place.

            Agent Romanoff was also eerily missing. Vision did not know what happened to her in the aftermath of the fight at the airport. The rest who had fought for Tony's ideals: the King of Wakanda, and the boy in the red suit were not present either. Those two, Vision realized, had not signed the Accords. They were not part of ~~the machine~~ The Avengers, and had no reason to come to the compound.

            They had been extra manpower, to try and reign in Captain Rogers and his compatriots. The King had been fighting for his own personal gain. And the boy had been only trying to impress Stark.

            In the end, the extra help had been needed. But it was only a partial success. Captain Rogers and James Barnes were still missing, for unknown reasons like the mysterious silence that filled the facility.

            The ones who fought for Rogers' side though...

            Vision was in the dark on that subject as well.

            In the frenzy that followed Colonel Rhodes' fall, Vision had not been able to ask where the captured members of Captain Rogers' team were being taken. Agent Barton, Sam Wilson, the man who could shrink his body, and...

            Vision found himself in the main common room of the Facility.

            Where there was still a deep, gaping hole in the floor.

            Vision had been acting in the only way he was _sure_ he knew how to, logically, when he had been watching over Wanda. He had also been complying with Stark's orders, but it was already the only logical course of action to be taken.

            She had wanted to stay, too.

            If Wanda had left the compound, she would have been attacked, Vision was sure. He knew she would have been fine, she was strong, but people still might have been hurt involuntarily in the confusion. The public was already wary of her combination of being both foreign and Enhanced, and with the events in Lagos, they were given another reason to fear her.

            Vision did not want people to fear Wanda. It was a strange combination of logic and something else that seemed to be popping up more and more frequently as of late. It was something that Vision did not recognize, or was not sure if he was supposed to.

            The fear, he'd told her, was involuntary. People always feared things that they did not understand, or things that were different. It was something he too, had been on the receiving end of. But himself being feared did not bother him as much as Wanda being feared. He felt she did not deserve it.

            Vision looked down into the hole in the floor, just now realizing how deep it went. Crashing through numerous floors and into the earth hadn't damaged him much physically. He had still been able to rise out, almost unharmed, in time to join Tony's team in the fight at the airport.

            The need for extra manpower had been what had driven Agent Barton to the compound. This need had been found on both sides, Vision realized. But this had also sparked another clash. A smaller scale with the same motivations: ideals against morals, regulation against freedom. And also...

            Logic against emotion.

            He hadn't wanted to fight back. Perhaps against Agent Barton, but never against Wanda. Never her. He still wasn't sure why that was. But there was that _something_ there, and it made Vision want to protect her, to never let anyone hurt her. Of course, he knew, logically, that she could protect herself, being as powerful as she was. Still, he found himself compelled to defend her.

            But he couldn't have acted against her even if he had wanted to. He had been forced to the floor, could feel his head, the Mind Stone become full of Wanda's power. His whole body had been encased in sparks of scarlet, wrapping like vines; something that even now, after the fact, Vision realized that he would never stop finding intriguing. And he had told her the truth, at least, the truth that he believed in.

            That if she acted against the Accords, against what was supposed to bring peace to the world, that people would never stop fearing her.

            And she had responded with so much conviction, so much strength.

            She couldn't control their fear, only her own.

            His words based on logic, hers based on emotion. It was there that Vision realized that the divide had spread even to them.

            It was not what he wanted.

            So he had let himself be forced into the ground, crashing through floor after floor, surrounded in sparkling red light.

            And later, when the fight seemed over, Vision found her again.

            They had both apologized for their actions, and Vision thought that everything would be good.

            But then...

            "Our mistakes make us human" was a quote that Vision had heard once. It applied to Wanda, of course, but to himself... It couldn't.

            He was not human. He was not supposed to make mistakes.

           

***

 

            Hours later, in the dark moments before the sun, Tony Stark returned. He had a black eye and countless other serious injuries that had not been present when Vision had last seen him. There was also a faraway look on his face that Vision had not seen before. Something had happened, definitely to him, maybe to others as well, and it had been intense. Stark was obviously very affected, but his countenance changed when he noticed the android watching him.

            The man waved Vision off when he tried to inquire about his health. Vision was also given a mumbled response that he couldn't interpret when Tony was asked where the captured from Rogers' team were. In the end, Vision was left with a one-sided conversation and all of his questions unanswered.

            Even one of the men who had worked to create him did not appear to see The Vision as more than a machine. Vision's words of concern were probably seen as just another flaw in the perfect creation that Tony seemed to be finding was not so perfect.

            Tony did inform Vision that Rhodey was returning to the Facility. He would be dropped off later that morning.

            "If it is alright with you, Mr. Stark, I would not very much like to be present for the colonel's return." Vision told him, "I do not feel he wishes to see me again so quickly."

            "Suit yourself," Tony replied, as he began to head towards the common room.

            Vision was just able to stop him short of the entrance by calling out, "Mr. Stark,"

            The man turned, and Vision brought himself closer, floating around Tony and blocking the doorway, saying, "I'm not sure if... You want to go in there."

            "What, you and Maximoff break something?"

            Vision found himself in an awkward situation. "You could say that." He said simply.

            But Tony was an inherently curious man, and he wasn't going to let Vision stop him anyway. He pushed the android aside and stepped into the room.

            Vision followed him and was able to catch Stark's reaction upon seeing the hole in the floor perfectly.

            "Just after we finished building it," Tony muttered under his breath before turning to Vision. "Alright," He pointed to the hole, like Vision didn't already know what he was going to speak about, "Explain."

            Vision did, and a while later, he was saved from any more awkward conversation when Tony's phone pinged a notification.

            "That's Rhodey," Tony said, "Gonna bring him to the rec room. It's brighter in there and has a lot less..." He waved his hands over the broken floor, "Hole."

            "Of course." Vision replied, having not much more to say.

            "Made him some braces for his legs. Tough, durable, made of the same stuff as the suits." Tony was explaining as he started going towards the door, "More comfortable though. I'll ask him if he wants to trick 'em out. Cup holders, disco lights, soda fountain." he sighed suddenly, trailing off. "Only the best."   

            Vision had seen this before, in other humans, but sometimes in Stark. Most of the time, actually, in Stark. When they seemed content, but it was just covering up how they actually felt, until they couldn't contain the bad feelings anymore.

            "Mr. Stark, I am truly sorry for my mistake." Vision repeated what he'd said to Rhodey at the hospital.

            "Yeah, just make sure it doesn't happen again." Tony turned, an edge growing in his voice. "Can't afford to have you getting 'distracted' again, b-" he was suddenly choked up and couldn't finish his thought.

            Tony left after that, leaving the conversation hanging in the air.

            Vision knew what Tony had been about to say, though. It had happened before. Especially in the early days of his creation.

            Buddy.

            Pal.

            JARVIS.

            Sometimes, especially under intense emotions, stress, or anxiety, Tony would slip up. He'd call Vision by a name that he had previously used for JARVIS. Vision couldn't blame him, though each time he'd softly correct him, saying that he wasn't JARVIS, he was The Vision. Tony would get quiet after that, sometimes mumbling a correction, and making an empty promise that he'd try to get it right.

            Vision had never known JARVIS. He never would, either. Despite the fact that Stark was once able to become close friends with something that wasn't human, he was struggling to do the same for Vision. He was probably still bitter over the fact that Vision was part of a factor that took his friend away from him.

            JARVIS had never made mistakes.

            Ultron had called Vision a slave. As much as Tony would be loathe to admit, that's what JARVIS had been. And it was what Tony had expected Vision to be.

            And he _was_ , though, in a way. He was a slave to logic, to calculations, and most of the time, to Stark's orders, if he agrees with them.

            But therein lay the problem.

            Agreement.

            Free will.

            JARVIS hadn't had those, so thus, he hadn't been capable of making mistakes.

            But Vision was not JARVIS. He never had been. It was what he told Stark on the very night of his creation. _I am not what you are, and not what you intended... I am not Ultron, I am not JARVIS... I am-... I am._

It was that simple, but it was something that Tony did not understand.    

            Because as much as the man prided himself on logic and ideals, he was still human. He had emotions. And those emotions sometimes got the better of him.

            Vision was not supposed to let emotions get the better of him. He was not sure if he was even supposed to _have_ emotions. This thought bounced around in his head, and he found that he had no answer to his own question.

 

***

            Later, Vision was sitting alone in the common room. It was dark, but he didn't mind. Tony and Rhodey were in a different room, the former helping the latter to walk. Vision wondered how it was going, but thought it would be impolite to interrupt. Especially being himself.

            A chess board was sitting on the coffee table. Vision enjoyed chess. _That,_ at least, _was_ logical. It was a game of skill and strategy, not chance.

            He played sometimes with the other Avengers. It was one of the first recreational things that he had learned to do, after discovering that there was time that existed not just for action and purpose. Captain Rogers was glad the game hadn't changed since the Forties, and was a capable opponent. Samuel Wilson and Colonel Rhodes played less, both preferring faster paced entertainment. Agent Romanoff was probably the hardest to beat, skilled as she was at strategy.

            Wanda though, did not know how to play. It wasn't a game that had been common in Sokovia, and with her childhood, she didn't have time for playing games.

            So Vision had taught her.

            It was something else he found he enjoyed, sometimes more than the actual playing. Not just the teaching aspect, but the quiet moments he spent with Wanda, that somehow seemed different from similar times with the rest of the team.

            He did have to admit that she never became skilled at the game. She couldn't keep the roles that each piece had correct in her head.

 

***

 

            _Wanda's hand was perched lightly on the top of her Tower. It was her last one, the other having been taken by Vision's Knight. She saw an opening, a flaw in the defense of her opponent, that left his Queen wide open._

_"Wanda, you cannot move the Tower diagonally."_

_She looked up. "Why not?"_

_"That is not how the game is played." Vision stated simply. "It is in the rules."_

_"Okay, well. Which piece can move diagonally?"_

_"The Bishop."_

_Wanda put back the Tower and tried to move her Bishop in the right direction in order to take Vision's Queen. But the angle was off. She ended up leaving the piece there, in front of the Queen. So close to its target, but unable to complete its goal._

_Vision had then took her Bishop, knocking it down with the Queen that it stood next to._

_"That was cheap." Wanda told him, but she wasn't really put off, as she was still smiling slightly._

_"That was logical." Vision replied._

_Wanda huffed and looked back down at the board, seeing if she could salvage a win._

_"The King can move wherever he wants to, yes?" She asked._

_"Correct," Vision found himself smiling as well, proud of her for remembering. "Though it can only move one space at a time, but in any direction."_

_"Isn't the King the most powerful? In an actual monarchy?"_

_"Perhaps," Vision relented, "But in history, a King would be nowhere without his Queen. Monarchies run by a Queen alone have, historically, become more successful than others."_

_"Well, that is good then." Wanda said, still looking over the pieces, "The men with too much power tend to have it go to their heads."_

_Vision didn't know why he did, but he reached out, his hand just barely hovering above hers. He was not sure if he should touch her, unsure of what her reaction would be. Something inside him, though, did make him want to bring his hand gently down on top of hers. But he didn't, and instead quickly retracted his hand, making it seem like he was rotating a piece to face forward._

_"And, the women with too much power?" He asked her, "Does it go to their heads as well?"_

_"We will have to wait and see." Was her reply._

***

No one would tell him where she was. Where any of them were. All Vision could do at the moment was hope that they were all alright.

            Vision leaned forward and picked up one of the chess pieces. The black Tower. Thoughts coursed through his head as he twirled the piece between his fingers.

            All the experiences over the past few days came to a front. The Accords, the divide, the battle, and the aftermath.

            Earlier, even only a few hours earlier, Vision had been sure he had chosen the right side. From his very creation, he had stated that he was on the side of life. That itself had not changed. But the side of logic and ideals had seemed like the only solution that would not lead to, as he'd said, catastrophe.

            But catastrophe came anyway, because of the divide. Because of morals and ideals, but mostly because of human emotion. Emotion was something that had been found on both sides.

            Emotion was something complicated and not logical, and it was something Vision did not understand. Was emotion a belief, something one stood for, a reason for doing or being, or was it something else?

            Captain Rogers and Tony Stark both held the belief that they were doing the most good, and that what they were doing was right. What they stood for was more complex than just 'freedom' or 'regulation', too. Their reasons for choosing to sign or not sign were what had started the divide in the first place. But were all these things emotions, or just based in emotion?

            Vision looked at the Tower piece still in his fingers. Unconsciously, he'd started to mimic some of the complicated movements Wanda did to control her powers. The Tower moved up and down in rhythm.

            And, of course, there was that whole matter.

            The matter of his being 'distracted'.

            Was that a matter of emotion as well?

            Vision truly did not know, but for some reason, this question was the one he wanted to answer the most, but was also the one he was most scared of.

            Was feeling compassion for life, or sorrow for mistakes, or fear of what is to come having emotions? Or were emotions just sudden bursts of joy or fear or anger that come seemingly at random, without any reason?

            Vision wished he could ask someone about his predicament. But it was not like there was another android out there who had suddenly solved the puzzle. He was the only one. There was no one who felt the same way. There was no one who understood, and no one who could _ever_ understand.

            Wanda had come close to understanding. At least she had talked to him like he was a person. Perhaps it was because she knew what being different felt like, and she herself didn't want to be treated as something less than human simply because she could do things that they could not. Remembering this fact about her made him feel... Light.

            None of the other Avengers seemed to see him as something more than a machine. Sure, they saw him as part of the team, and they _tried_ to treat him like he was no different, but even just the _possibility_ of him being more than human, or less than human did not seem to appear. They just expected him to be perfect, and to help them do things they could not. He wanted to help them, of course, but it didn't change the way he was sure they thought about him.

            Vision himself wasn't even quite sure if he was more than a machine. Machines weren't supposed to make mistakes, or feel things. 

_But if I am not supposed to feel, or make mistakes, why am I able to?_

Why did he feel compelled to make Wanda happy, by trying (and failing) to cook, when he knew, logically, that he himself didn't need to eat? Why did he feel the need to protect her at all costs, when he knew, logically, that she could protect herself? Why did thinking about how she was the only one who got close to understanding how he felt make him feel light, when he knew, logically, that he should not be able to feel? Why had he been distracted by her and driven to make a mistake, when he knew, logically, that neither of those things should be able to happen?

            Was that what emotion was? Knowing that something was logical, but acting on impulse to do the illogical because it went against how one felt?

            _Helplessness was something very human._

_I am not supposed to feel helpless._

_I am not supposed to_ feel _._

_I am not supposed to not understand._

_But-_

_I don't understand. I don't understand. I don't understand. I DON'T UNDERSTAND._

***

 

COMPLEMENTS

PART TWO: EMOTIONS

 

            "No! No, please- You don't-! Please-!"

            Her pleading was ignored, as a rough (and garish) blue garment was pulled over her head. Her arms were forced through the sleeves, crossed in front of her body, and secured.

            A straitjacket.

            When she was first captured, guards, without even speaking one word, had grabbed her before she could do anything. Struggling, she had tried to conjure an energy field, a pulse, anything, but her fingers were being crushed. The guards had taken special care to not do so lightly, their huge hands dwarfing her own, holding them still. She'd felt the stabbing, pinching (but oddly familiar) pain of multiple needles, pumping tranquilizing drugs into her veins. And then it had all gone black.

            Now, her breathing became rapid, a sequence of short breaths over and over, panicking. Everything began to close in. Her hands were restrained as though she was being strangled in vines. She could do nothing to stop the feeling of shooting anxiety, nor the people who restrained her.

            "No! No, please-!" Despite it all, she tried again, as last call for clemency.

            But her eyes widened when armed guards came at her with a collar.

            Wanda Maximoff gagged as the collar was pulled tight around her neck. A pinkish-red light, the color almost mocking her, blinked on.

            "Why-?" It was all she was able to choke out before an electric shock coursed through her body.

            One of the guards even had the nerve to laugh. The last to step out as the glass slid shut, he rapped on it, twice, causing a startled Wanda to look up.

            "You be a good little witch, now," his voice was coarse, like it was grinding on pebbles, "An' maybe this won't be too terrible a stay." He waggled a little remote in his fingers; it probably controlled the shock collar. Wanda took it as a challenge.

            "I-!" Wanda's retort was cut short by a gasp of pain that came another shock. She was left, if it was possible, breathing even more heavily than before.

            "You learn fast!" He said, and Wanda could almost see the sarcasm dripping from his teeth. "Wanna try that again? It'd make a long shift pretty amusing."

            She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction, so she stayed quiet.

            "Oh well, it's not only remote controlled. You talk too much and it won't be too fun for you either!" he laughed darkly and squatted down near the floor, becoming eye level to where she was sitting. "You were always my daughter's favorite. _Scarlet Witch."_

            Wanda said nothing, and frowned at him instead. In truth, she was a bit surprised. She didn't know she had a following. ' _Had'_ she reminded herself, being the operative word. 

            "What am I going to tell her about you being a criminal?" The guard went on, though Wanda didn't really want to listen anymore.

            She was saved from that particular predicament when a loud bang echoed through the compound.

            "You know, I never got any orange slices?"

            Wanda recognized the voice. The bug... Man; she couldn't remember his title or his name. He was quickly silenced by what was presumably another guard.

            "That'll be your friends," the man behind the glass continued, "Had to bring you in first seeing as they're not... Ah, weapons of mass destruction."

            With that, the man pressed a button on the remote. Wanda flinched, sure there was another shock coming, but instead saw a series of metal bars shoot across on the other side of the glass, adding one more layer to the confinement. The guard then left to help bring in the other prisoners.

            "How 'bout like a bagel or something?" Scott Lang was led in first, with a number of large men surrounding him. They shoved him into one of the cells.

            Scott fell roughly onto the ground, but got up quickly again, just in time to see the bars slide out of the wall. "C'm on, guys! Growing giant takes a lot out of a guy! I'd settle for an avocado!"

            "Give it a rest, Tic-Tac." Another voice, Sam Wilson's came from down the hallway. He too came into view, also in the custody of several guards. He was put (a little less roughly than Scott had been) into the cell next to Wanda's. She noticed that they were both dressed in the same ugly blue colored garments as she was, though theirs looked more like hospital clothes than something a mental patient would wear. Neither of them seemed to have noticed she was there either, sitting as close to the floor as she was, and unable to make any noise.

            "Hey, quit shoving! I'm going! Just taking my time! Not like you guys need to be anywhere!" Last of all, Clint Barton was ushered in. He _was_ taking his time, Wanda noticed, much to the annoyance of the guards. He was probably looking for possible escape routes or forming a strategy for making those routes in his head. Smart.

            Clint's eyes widened when they finally met her own. "Wanda?" Was all he could say, some of the color draining from his face.

            Wanda couldn't see him, but she heard Sam move like he'd been startled. "What? Wanda's here?"

            Clint didn't answer, but started to struggle against the men holding him. "She's just a kid! How could you people-" he was cut off as one of the guards shoved him hard, the breath getting knocked from his chest.

            They wasted no time closing the glass gate and bars of Clint's cell. He banged against the wall holding him as they left yelling, "You cowards!"

            Wanda heard a knock coming from the wall to her right. Sam's voice followed it, "You in there, Maximoff?"

            "She's in a straitjacket, Sam!" Clint was practically spitting with anger. "A frickin' straitjacket! She's a kid and they're treating her like- like a-!"

            "Like the weapon she is?" The sound of footsteps preceded the reveal of the newest voice. Stepping out into the center of the room, in view of all four occupied cells, the voice was matched with a face.

            Secretary Ross.

            "We took all the necessary precautions," Ross continued. He pointed at Wanda, "Here we have another nuke, an unlimited source of raw power. This is how we have to contain it." He walked a bit closer to her, expensive shoes clicking on metal. He towered above her, looking down to where she sat, huddled close to the wall. Ross looked at Wanda, and Wanda looked back, both parties expressionless. He continued, "Until we learn more about the extent of what she can do, Miss Maximoff must remain... Restrained."

            She wasn't being restrained, Wanda knew. She was being feared. Ross and his team were clueless about what she could do, and as such, went overkill. They didn't understand how her abilities worked, so they prepared for the worst; as Ross had said, they took necessary precautions.

            _Was a_ shock collar _really a necessary precaution?_ Wanda would have spat the question at him, had she been unafraid to speak. She supposed that was the point he was trying to make.

            "But I digress." Ross turned and walked back to the center of the room. "Welcome," he spread his arms like he was actually trying to be hospitable, "To the Raft. Highest security prison on the planet. One way in, one way out. _Very_ secluded. Yes, it is truly top of the line."

            Wanda watched Scott raise his hand meekly, like he was in a class. Ross got a funny look on his face, and hesitated before saying, "Yes, Lang?"

            "Yeah, I've been in prison before, I know the drill." Scott was standing, casually leaning on the glass barrier in front of him. "What, do we get... Two crummy meals a day and... An hour of rec time? Could I... Could I have those two crummy meals now?"

            Ross just frowned deeper and was silent for a bit, and then went on like Scott hadn't talked at all. "You all know why you're here. You knew what would happen if you went against the Sokovia Accords, and now you're paying the price."

            "I- I actually did not know what would-" Scott started, but Ross cut him off with, "Until a compromise is reached with the UN, you will remain here indefinitely. But with what occurred recently, that could be a long, long time. If that time does come, you will be put on trial, and it will be decided whether you will be allowed back into the world."

            Ross looked pointedly to Wanda while saying the last part. She didn't need to read his mind to know what he was thinking.

_A weapon like you should never be allowed back into the world._

"If the trials go in your favor," the secretary went on, "You will be released under constant monitoring. Then, there will be further decisions to make on whether you will be allowed to return to your former line of work. Of... Avenging."

            "I'm retired." Clint muttered under his breath, but was also ignored by Ross, or perhaps the secretary didn't hear him.

            "Until then, you will remain here. Under 24/7 audio-video surveillance, armed guard, and bulletproof glass and steel." Ross started to head towards the entrance he had originally come from. "So enjoy your stay at the Raft. You're going to be here a while."

            With that, the man was gone.

           

***

 

" _Now, this is the story all about how my life got flip-turned upside down. And I'd like to take a minute, just sit right there, I'll tell you how I became the prince of a town called Bel Air_!"

            "Is that... The ' _Fresh Prince of Bel Air_ ' theme song?" Wanda couldn't see Sam because of the way their cells were positioned, but by the tone of his voice, she knew he must have looked incredibly annoyed.

            Scott had been tapping to the beat on the floor of his cell while he sang rather poorly. "Yeah... Why?"

            "Just checking," Sam went on. "Now shut up."

            " _In west Phillidelphia-"_

"Clint! You too!" Sam yelled.

            "Come on, man! It's stuck in my head now!"

            "I'm not about to sit here and suffer through hours of you two and your terrible singing!"

 

 

***       

           

            HYDRA had been better than this.

            It was a grim thought, but not untrue, Wanda finally realized.

            At least HYDRA hadn't treated her like she was a ticking time bomb.

            HYDRA never put her in a straitjacket.

            There had been times, of course, where she'd been strapped down before getting rolled away for more tests. But she had always been released, albeit back into a cell, and had been able to experiment with her newfound powers.

            The scientists had never feared her, or, at least they didn't show it as much as the Raft guards did. They had encouraged her to use her abilities, always to push the limits of what she could do.

            After joining The Avengers, Wanda never thought she'd find herself _missing_ the horrible HYDRA lab. She certainly wouldn't miss the experimentation, the pain of hundreds of needles a day, her hands being constantly covered in cuts and gashes, or the stinging headaches that lasted for days on end when her powers first started to accumulate.

            But in comparison to her current state, Wanda missed the freedom.

            She missed the days when people _weren't_ afraid.

            At least in HYDRA, she had her brother.

            Wanda surprised herself. It had been a while since she'd thought that way. She'd thought that she had moved on, maybe just a little.

            _Who am I kidding. You never left me._

If Pietro had been here, none of this would have happened. None of it.

            Pietro would have found a way to get rid of the bomb before it hit the building. Wanda didn't know how, but she was sure he could have done something she hadn't been able to do. And without that event, there would have been no Accords, no divide, no prison, no straitjacket, no shock collar.

            But that's not what happened.

            Pietro was gone.

            The bomb still hit.

            And thus, began the divide.

            Wanda's hands had gone numb a long time ago. Earlier, there had been an aching pain in her fingers. The guards had neglected to remove her rings, Wanda could only guess the reason why. Perhaps they thought they were cursed or magic or something. _Idiots,_ she'd thought. The metal had dug into her skin underneath the fabric. But now, she could hardly feel a thing.

            Pietro had always liked to hold her hands. He'd started doing it soon after they lost their parents in the bombings. Wanda hadn't objected, quite liking it too, actually. A touch is a tether, she'd told him. It was something real in a world that didn't seem so real anymore.

            _I don't think you'd believe it, but the world has gotten even stranger, brother._

She wondered what Pietro would have thought about the Sokovia Accords. Probably just to spite Stark, he would have gone against them, Wanda thought. Even so, he also probably would have agreed with Steve and the others anyway; he wasn't one to listen to rules and regulation.

            Stark had used the example of shutting down his weapon making once he figured out what they were used for as an illustration of regulation being a good thing.

            Pietro would have said, _"Not soon enough."_

Wanda hadn't signed the Accords. She hadn't really said 'no', either, just never decided. But things had gone bad so quickly, there ended up being no time to do so. She wondered if, given enough time, or if she _hadn't_ been confined to the Compound, if she would have, eventually, signed them.

            The grudge against Stark was probably part of the reason she didn't originally. Yes, the dislike was still there, even after everything, even after joining Stark's own Avengers.

            But that wasn't all of it. It was a question of morals and ideals.

            The morals that were a part of standing up for people who couldn't do so themselves. The morals that dictated that there is _always_ a choice, no matter what. The morals that never said no to second chances.

            And the ideals that saw freedom as a small sacrifice compared to the continued safety of all. The ideals that prized logic over emotion. The ideals that saw peace as an equation that can only be solved with the discontinuation of a pattern of destruction.

            The threat of containment had always been there. But _this..._ Perhaps Wanda really would have signed if she had known that this hell would be waiting if she didn't.

             Both her upper arms had become numb to go along with her hands _._ A straitjacket wouldn't have been able to keep Pietro down; he'd probably find some way to get the thing off, running around, hitting the walls, probably. That's what he used to do, Wanda remembered, back when their powers were first manifesting.

            More than anything, Wanda wanted to just be able to _move._ Even just flailing about, at this point, would have been satisfying. But she couldn't do that, or, at least, didn't want to try. Wanda didn't know how the shock collar was triggered; it could be activated by more than just sound.

            But still... Maybe that was just the paranoia talking.

            And now that paranoia was talking, Wanda knew she had to do something, before she started going even more insane.

            Standing up might help, if anything. Her legs weren't restrained, and with some struggling, she was able to raise herself to her feet. Immediately, the blood started to rush back, bringing feeling to her numb legs, and her knees started to go wobbly. Unable to brace herself with her hands, she leaned back against the wall to prevent herself from falling.

              _So far, so good._ She knew she was being watched by cameras. She was constantly braced for a shock, but nothing came, at least not yet. Perhaps no one was watching her at the moment, or perhaps no one cared.

            _I just need to be able to move my hands. Maybe then I can do something to get this thing off, or loosen it._ She could only move her head and shoulders with relative ease. Compared to not being able to move anything else, 'relative ease' was still too difficult in Wanda's opinion. And while doing that did make her feel a bit better, it did nothing to free her hands. For not the first time that day, Wanda cursed herself for not figuring out how to channel her powers through anywhere other than her hands.

 "Go big or go home" was something Sam had said sometimes, especially during training sessions back at the Compound. It had taken Wanda a few times of hearing the saying to understand what it meant; American figures of speech were difficult to figure out sometimes. Wanda figured the saying could be applied perfectly to this situation. She didn't have much to lose.

_If I move enough, that must eventually weaken the knot._ She tried to do so, moving her shoulder marginally, back and forth, up and down. There was not much else she _could_ do, and even this effort wasn't much.

            Why famous magicians and escape artists _chose_ to get out of straitjackets for _entertainment,_ Wanda didn't know.

            The fabric had started to chafe the skin of her collarbone. It felt like a burning, but the pain was unimportant. She'd been through worse. Much worse. It was something to concentrate on, something real.

            She leaned forward, becoming desperate for a result, for _something._

            _Let me out. Let me out. Please. Please! Let me out!_

Forward...

            Too far.

            Wanda couldn't catch herself, her arms still tied. She fell forward and hit the floor. She fell on her arms, a sharp, stabbing feeling shooting though her ribs and chest. Her chin hit the ground, turning her sight fuzzy. Everything hurt, and she could not stop herself from crying out in pain.

            And she could only cry out again when a shock coursed through her body.

            Another scream, another shock.

            Again and again.

            The shocks came over and over, until Wanda could make no more noise, and with her silence, they stopped.

            She was left, curled in on herself, on the floor. She wasn't able to stop herself from shaking. Her hair was spread out everywhere, ragged, getting in her face and mouth, but she didn't care, nor could do anything about it.

            Wanda's breathing came short and fast, too quick from her aching lungs. It burned her throat, it having been set afire by the collar. She shook and could not stop shaking, the panic overtaking her body. Her eyes were clenched shut, but could do nothing about the tears that still escaped.

            Her screams hadn't gone unnoticed. In the back of her mind, Wanda could hear Clint yelling. She couldn't understand the words. The world was muted.

            Had her hands been free, Wanda was sure she would have released a pulse of energy. But that was not possible in her current state. Instead, all the magic, all the power, all the _emotion_ had all become pent up inside of her. It crept into her head, filled all her thoughts, ensnared her mind like vines.

            _This is all your fault._ The scarlet energy crooned to her, _You started the divide. Just because you couldn't control yourself._  

            "Stop it! Stop it, please!" Wanda's voice was a broken sob forced through her burnt throat. She pleaded aloud with the voice that was inside her head.

            It didn't listen.

            _It should have been you to die._ The scarlet voice was music, singing to her the thoughts that had already been in her head. _Your brother could have done better. He wouldn't be feared. He would have been loved. Unlike you._   

            "WANDA!"

            Just as suddenly as it came, the voice was gone. The red mist left her mind, dissipating into the air.

            " _Pietro?"_ Wanda mouthed the word, afraid to make any sound.

            Her eyes opened slightly, and she looked through the glass.

            Clint had been the one to call her name, not her brother.

            Wanda tried to look towards the source of Clint’s voice, but her muscles were not responding. Her body was nothing but pain, her mind a fog.

            She was relieved when darkness began to spread around the edges of her vision, and the pain ended as Wanda blacked out.

 

***

 

            _“We would protect you.”_

_She remembered his voice. A promise. Not kept._

_Then why didn’t you? Where are you now?_

***

            The rest of Wanda’s stay at The Raft goes by in moments of haze and stretches of blackness. She didn’t know how long they were kept there. She didn’t know if she had dreamed hearing the voice of Tony Stark, or if he had actually been there.

            When Steve finally came, Wanda didn’t recognize him. He could have been a guard, he could have been a HYDRA agent, back from her past. She had to get away. He was dangerous. He was here to hurt her. What else could this man be here for? It was all anyone had ever done here. It was all anyone ever had done to her.

Her limbs still did not respond to the commands her mind gave them. In her mind, she backed away. In her mind, her hands were free, and this man was blown backwards in an explosion of glowing red.

But in the haze that was her reality, nothing happened. Wanda moved her eyes up to look at the man who had broken into her cell, unable to make the effort to move her head. She couldn’t see past the fog. She didn’t know who this was.

_“Oh God, Wanda… What did they do to you?”_ Steve said, but Wanda couldn’t understand.

She was unable to make any move of protest as he reached for the collar around her neck.

Just that slightest jostling movement was enough to set it off like a bomb among the bricks.

Wanda seized as the shock traveled through her veins, and once again, everything went dark.

 

***

 

            _When they were younger and still a family, Wanda and Pietro would stay up past their bedtime watching movies when they and their parents were all together for the night._

_They had a small-screened old and grainy television set, but a vendor down the street sold cheap movies, and the twins’ parents would buy a few for them every so often when they went to the market. Pietro and Wanda didn’t have the luxury to be able to have a ‘taste’ in genres, as they watched whatever was available, but they were okay with that._

_Many titles were big-name American movies with translated subtitles in Sokovian running across the bottom of the screen._ Star Wars _was one that they all agreed to watch often, and it became one of Wanda’s favorites. Sometimes they’d watch other adventure movies like_ Indiana Jones _or_ James Bond _; one week, the vendor had fifteen copies of_ Titanic _as his sole merchandise and the twins’ parents sent them to their room when something risqué happened on screen. Pietro had been scolded for trying to sneak back in to watch, and Wanda had been glad she hadn’t gone with him._

_So many years later, in a different country, a different language, a different life, Wanda watched movies again. It was late at night, just like before. But it was lonelier. Her brother and her parents were gone now. She was alone._

_Sleep had become foreign to her, nightmares of nothing and everything weaving in and out of her mind like scarlet vines._

_She found the common room abandoned so late at night, with its huge and expensive flat-screen television. It was left on the news channel most of the time, but Wanda changed it to one showing films; something familiar, maybe this would help._

_She would stay up until nearly dawn night after night, until her eyes could hardly stay open. Then, Wanda would shuffle back to her room, collapsing on her bed, too exhausted to dream._

_It was not the best system._

_She didn’t remember many of the movies, most of the time, she would start in the middle of one and leave before the next was over. One could be about an expedition to the center of the earth, and the next could be about a dog playing basketball. They blurred together in Wanda’s head._

_It was not long into this routine that Wanda found herself with company one late night._

_“You’re often here alone.” Wanda couldn’t tell if The Vision’s words were a question or a statement._

_“You’re right.” She’d replied. Then, they hadn’t known each other well. Maybe a polite word or two in passing, a glance during training. In truth, Wanda didn’t know what to make of the android. They were the two newest members of the team, that at least they had in common._

_And he had saved her… in Sokovia._

_“Should you not be sleeping at this hour?” Vision had gone on, “I’ve noticed you have been rather tired during team training sessions as of late.”_

_“Being tired is better than the nightmares.”_

_Vision hadn’t said anything in reply to that. Wanda watched him thinking, the white light from the screen reflecting off silver bits of metal embedded in his skin. His eyes were a crystal blue, dark and light at the same time, irises rotating in and out like a camera lens._

_“Do you want to watch this with me?” Wanda asked him, interrupting._

_The android had looked stunned (before, Wanda hadn’t thought it possible for him to express like that) for half a second before answering, “I’m sorry, no one has asked me something such as that before.”_

_“Then that is all the more reason to join me.”_

_He seemed to contemplate this for a moment more before going over to sit in one of the armchairs. He didn’t lean back into it, sitting perfectly straight and somewhat awkwardly. He seemed to fold in on himself, wanting to take up the smallest amount of space as possible._

_“What are we watching?” he asked._

_“_ Pride and Prejudice,” _Wanda replied, “It’s just started, so I don’t really know what it’s about yet.”_

_“It is based on Jane Austen’s 1813 novel of the same title.”_

_“Did you look that up?” Wanda asked, surprised that he had known the answer so quickly. “Or did you already know that?”_

_“I looked it up. Just now, after you said the title. My brain, the Mind Stone, myself… are constantly connected to the internet. It allows me to do… well, that.”_

_“That’s incredible!”_

_He had looked stunned again then, like he had before. Wanda realized that he quite possibly had never received a compliment. “Oh… thank you.”  
            Wanda smiled, and watched the lenses in his eyes spin inwards again. _

_And for every night that followed, Wanda wasn’t alone anymore._

_Vision would join her in the common room moments after she came out, awakened by nightmares. He seemed to know right when she needed comfort the most._

_He_ was _comforting to her. Wanda knew none of the other Avengers would say the same about the android. But somehow, impossibly, Wanda found her complement with Vision._

_The movies helped immensely. They helped them both to figure out things, about logic, about emotions, about each other. Vision had asked why Wanda was crying at the end of_ Wall-E _, even though it was a happy ending. She tended to get emotional, no matter what movie it was. “They’re happy tears, Vizh. I’m happy that everything turned out okay in the end.”_

_Wanda caught him the next day whispering under his breath, “Happy tears… how human.”_

_It was only then that the irony of Vision watching a movie about robots expressing emotion and falling in love hit her._

_Emotions were confusing to him, Wanda knew that much. Almost everything he did was in service to others, nothing for himself. He thought of himself as expendable, if it meant that ~~humans~~ others would be okay. And he didn’t think he _ could _feel emotions, though Wanda knew that was obviously, painfully wrong. She tried to tell him this, over and over in late night conversations in front of the television, or alone together in her room. She wasn’t sure if he believed her, but she wanted to do it anyway. She felt as though he deserved it._

_This connection with him helped with the nightmares, but they still came, creeping through the protective cover of vines she’d wrapped around her mind. When she woke up screaming in the middle of the night, it was Vision who came for her, phasing through the wall with a flash of yellow light. With the amount of concern shown plainly on his face, Wanda thought it a wonder that he didn’t think he could feel. He sat with her then, close, but just so, as he wasn’t sure how much he would be allowed to touch her. Together, they’d go to the common room and watch whatever movie that was showing._

_And with Vision with her on the couch, finally having moved to sit with her after Wanda asked him to, Wanda realized something. For so long, she had thought that her life would be a series of ragged days. That it would never go back to the small and dusty happiness that she had lost with her parents and brother. Pietro had kept them both going through the experiments saying that they just had to get through one more day, and he’d say the same thing the next day, and the next. Just get through one more day. And that wasn’t living, that was surviving. But it was all they could do. And when those ragged days ended, more came after her brother’s death. Darker, full of a void sucking out all light and all happiness, and she was further away from any happiness she had ever felt than ever before. But with Vision, with nights and days of having a purpose, and having a friend, and… having a family again… Wanda thought that maybe, with his help… happiness has found her again._

***

 

            When Wanda woke up screaming, no one came for her. There was no flash of yellow light through the wall of her room. It wasn’t _her_ room, Wanda realized after a moment. It was opulent and rich, full of dark jewel tones and gold and silver, more extravagant than anything she had ever seen.

            And it wasn’t the Raft.

            Reaching up tentatively to her throat, she found the collar was gone, but even the slightest touch made her wince with pain. She found that she had been dressed in fine and soft clothing, and that all her jewelry was gone. After a flash of panic, she found it, neatly lined up on the side table next to the bed.

            She didn’t know where she was, and when she tried to remember, everything was hazy. She didn’t know how long they were in the Raft, she didn’t remember being rescued. All the memories were filled with pain and fog.

            For some reason, though, she felt safe.

            But she was alone.

            Completely and utterly, unhappily alone.

 

***

 

COMPLEMENTS

PART THREE: TOGETHER

 

            It was too quiet without anyone here.

            The Compound wasn’t completely abandoned, Vision reasoned, but it might as well have been. Stark was there most of the time, and Rhodes, recovering, was as well. And he himself was there. He always was.

            In the few years between his creation and the fall of the Avengers, the Compound had hardly ever been quiet. There had always been something going on; training sessions, dinner, team movie nights… private movie nights.

            As they always did, like they were following a scarlet map, Vision’s thoughts always went back to Wanda.

            He missed her the most.

            There still had been hardly any word about the rogue members of their team, or perhaps it wasn’t entirely correct to call them a team anymore. Not too long after the Raft breach, the UN and other agencies agreed with Agent Barton and Scott Lang for them to be put on house arrest; their families were at risk, and it was the best option for them. But of the others, there were only rumors.

Occasionally, there would be some small news story he’d catch. A heist stopped in Belgium, people saved from a fire in Dublin; events of heroism done by unnamed heroes who were gone before they were revealed. The newscasters were never sure, but those stories gave Vision hope. Out of them all, the now rogue members were the most likely to not let wrongdoing slip by uncorrected, even if they were on the run.

No one in the Compound was happy. It was as though all the life had been sucked out of the once-shining place. It had been a place where every member had felt like they belonged, like they had a purpose, like they had a family. How could something so good have become something so bad?

And all of a sudden, there was a searing, burning pain in his head. Pain, something so unfamiliar, it made Vision wobble to the floor from his hovering position near the window. And images flashed through his mind, too quick to comprehend: a glowing galaxy, explosions of light, a golden metal glove.

As quickly as it happened, the sensation was gone. Vision was left kneeling on the floor, his episode going unnoticed in the empty Compound.

It was not the first time he had the thought that came next, in fact, a day never went by when the thought didn’t course through his mind. But this time it was different; now more than ever, he needed to follow through with it.

He had to find Wanda.

 

***

 

Stark was gone. He had left not too long before to assist Peter Parker, the Spider-Man with something, Vision wasn’t sure what. The point was, he wouldn’t know if Vision left since he wasn’t here. Rhodes was somewhere in the Compound, Vision could find out where, but it wasn’t important. His Stark-tech leg bracers were working better than Rhodes or the doctors had thought possible, and there was even talk of him being able to use his War Machine suit again, should he ever need to. Vision was not sure if the colonel would miss him if he was gone; the two weren’t exactly close, but on better terms than right after the accident.

Would it be entirely too suspicious if he left without telling anyone? Vision thought so. He was realizing quickly that he had never told a lie to anyone before, and was sure any ruse he came up with would become transparent for sure. He wouldn’t _have_ to tell a lie, he reasoned after thinking for a moment longer, just not the whole truth. So a plan formed in his mind, and he sent joint e-mails to both Stark and Rhodes:

_I have seen on the news recent events that seem to shed light on the location of the members of The Avengers that have gone rogue. I believe it would be in ours and the world’s best interest if they were found and brought in to answer for their violation of the Sokovia Accords. My location transponder will remain turned on, should you have any need of me. I will return as soon as I am able._

_Sincerely,_

_The Vision_

***

 

            “E-mail?” Stark quipped as he scrolled through the message on his phone, “Doesn’t he know he could have sent a text? Lot easier.”

 

***

 

            Vision was figuring out that he could fly _very_ fast should the need arise. Crossing the Atlantic probably shouldn’t have been as easy as it was. But only a few hours later, he was touching down on the western coast of Scotland. The time zone difference made for it to be well past midnight here compared to the United States, and Vision was relieved to find no one was around to see him. He conjured up a sweater, a coat, and some slacks, plus a hat to cover the Mind Stone, just to be extra cautious.

            Now what? The hardest part of this endeavor had only just begun. How was he going to find her, find any of them?

            No, it was only Wanda he was looking for.

            Did she even want to see him? He wasn’t sure, and the not knowing, even the smallest possibility that she would feel hostility towards him made his chest ache. Maybe he deserved it.

            But that feeling kept him going. Even to just see her would be enough. Even if she couldn’t help him see what the Mind Stone was trying to tell him. Just to see her would be enough. It had been so long.

            _Emotions… was that what they were? A sensation of pain, a sensation that something so small could satisfy the gaping hole in his life that had ripped open when she was taken? That she herself could fill that? Why? Why was it that she and only she could do such a thing?_ Vision pushed these thoughts from his head, they would be dealt with later, he had to focus on the task at hand.

            So he spent the next few days scouring newsstands and television reports, looking for any sign of where the rogue Avengers might be. It was not easy, but Vision knew it wouldn’t have been from the start. The reports back in the states had weeks between sightings, and there was no pattern. It was not logical. And then there was the slightest chance that it wasn’t even the Avengers who were doing the heroics at all, but Vision didn’t let that thought come to his mind.

            Perhaps they had a base of operations somewhere? No, that would be too conspicuous, too organized; any sense of organization would be too easily linked back to the official Avengers, and would send the governments of the world after them. They had a spy and a super-soldier with them, they would know better.

            With no leads and no direction, and though he knew it was not the most logical way of solving this problem, Vision resigned to searching through cities for signs of them. It was an incredibly small chance, so incredibly unlikely, so illogical that they would just happen to cross paths, to happen to be in the same place at the same time.

            But with logically was not the way that Wanda usually did things. Perhaps a bet placed in emotion, like she would, a chance taken to find out the truth would turn out to be the correct answer after all.

***

 

            Wanda thought she was seeing things.

            She had been on the run with Steve and Natasha and Sam for a few months after the Raft, for a few months after her recovery in Wakanda with King T’challa and his people. It had been a whirlwind of days and trips all blending together. Especially at the beginning, right after it all, everything had been blurred for a long time.

            They had traveled from country to country, never staying too long, an “exhausting vacation” as Sam called it, after which he would say, “which is an oxymoron.”

            Wanda was getting tired of it. Yes, they were doing good things, albeit from the shadows, but it was all too much. It reminded her too much of her childhood, days spent on the streets with only memories of the better life they used to have.

            As a spy, Natasha was naturally paranoid, and being Natasha, she was doubly so, and at even the slightest rumor that they had been found out, Natasha would pack up the team to go somewhere else. It was as though they were starting a new life every week, sometimes even every day. She had pre-fabricated aliases, ID cards, life stories for all four of them, vestiges from her days in darker circles. They changed through disguises like changes in the weather; Natasha would have dark hair one week, and the next be platinum blonde, Steve had a beard now, and his shield was missing. Sam honestly didn’t change too much, but he was also less recognizable.

            Natasha made Wanda dye her hair as well, and it was yet another thing that was way too much. She had gone practically ginger now, almost as red as Nat’s old color. “Orange as a carrot,” Steve said once, and Wanda made a face at him.

            They had gone from country to country, city to city, trying to lay low, but it was impossible for the other three members of the team to live without action. They couldn’t stay still, couldn’t be content.

            In some cities, especially recently, Wanda was convinced she was seeing things. Or rather, seeing _someone._

It couldn’t have been, though.

            Because she thought she was seeing Vision.

            And that couldn’t be possible.

            She had confided this to Natasha one night in their shared hotel room in Amsterdam. Natasha had looked at her intensely (she could do that _very_ well) for a little longer than was comfortable before asking she had had any communication with him. “If so, and if he’s looking for us, then we’re compromised and need to move as soon as we can.”

            “I haven’t talked to him since before the Raft, that’s the truth. I don’t know how I could have. I guess I must miss him more than I realize, Nat, that must be it. He was my- friend.”

            Natasha was skeptical, but of course, she always was. This wasn’t their first conversation where Vision had become a topic Wanda brought up. There was something there, she thought (she didn’t miss the slight pause before “friend”), but she didn’t want to dig too far into the girl’s secrets. At least not yet.

            “We’ll move tomorrow. Scotland or Wales or someplace kind of removed. If this keeps up, we’re going to have to do something about it.”

            It continued, of course. Only a few days after arriving in Scotland, Wanda thought she saw him again. Not even out of the corner of her eye. He was in a crowd, a red face among many pale ones, all moving at once, rushing to someplace else. As soon as she noticed him, it was too late and he was gone, and Wanda was left wondering if he was even real.

            Like Natasha said, they ended up “doing something about it.” Which for Wanda meant sitting at a café table in Edinburgh for hours peoplewatching, with Natasha, Sam, and Steve hidden close by in case things went south. But it also meant Wanda was to be stretching out her powers, conspicuously brushing against people’s minds, seeing who they were. If she happened to reach Vision, they were sure there would be a response.

            Vision’s mind was very familiar to her. She could recognize it easily, without hardly trying to. Her powers had been growing almost exponentially since being stoppered in the Raft, building until they might explode from inside her.

            So it didn’t surprise her when she felt a familiar mind brush up against her touch.

            _“Maybe here- maybe she-?”_

The thought she heard abruptly stopped. Through a crowd of people crossing a busy street, she saw one figure stop in their tracks. People moved around while he stayed still, and through the rush, they finally met eyes for the first time in so long.

            She watched his mouth move, watched him say one word.

            Just her name, just “Wanda.”

 

***

           

            Vision started to walk forward, his stare cutting through the crowd moving around him. People jostled him as they walked by, muttering to themselves, others steered clear as if he had shouldered his way past himself.

He never stopped moving and never stopped staring.

And suddenly he stood in front of her, and it took all he had to not pick her up like he had in the destruction of Sokovia, to hold her, finally after so long, no matter the consequences. Standing so close to her, Vision couldn’t believe that everything wouldn’t turn out okay, couldn’t believe that every problem could not be solved.

“Wanda,” He said again, so she could hear.

“Vision,” she said, and suddenly it didn’t matter what emotions were, it didn’t matter whether he could feel them or not.

All that mattered, he realized, was her. Her and him. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> -i started writing this fic september 14, 2016  
> -the morals vs ideals bit was inspired by pokemon black and white, when i couldn't remember that it was actually truth vs ideals  
> -i tried to follow the SVAD theme, i really tried. there's some vines in there. you just gotta look  
> -the bit about fifteen copies of Titanic was inspired by a book called A Thousand Splendid Suns  
> -the bit where Vision crosses the street to find Wanda had a lot of words stolen from R.A. Salvatore's 'The Two Swords'. The main character, Drizzt reminds me a lot of Vision, so it works  
> -the ending seems rushed to me, and i wanted to write more of it, have more scenes of them getting together the 'stolen moments over two years' that was said in IW, but I wanted to get this out on the SVAD day, so I ended it where it ended  
> -I really wanted a dancing bit, so maybe i'll make a fourth part, but we'll see


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